Compass
by the sentiment machine
Summary: In which Gokudera realizes his feelings for Takeshi. His compass unexpectedly leads the way. 8059


"I left something here," Gokudera explains his presence. His hands dig into the pockets of his sweatshirt, as an attempt to stay warm. The autumn wind has bitten his face, gracing his cheeks and nose with a flush of pink. But his lips are close to blue.

He shuffles awkwardly; he feels as if he's intruding.

But the look on Tsuyoshi's face melts away his worries. "Come in, then," he reassures. "It's warmer inside anyways."

Gokudera steps inside and is thankful for the rush of warmth in the restaurant. There is an abundance of customers even at nine in the evening, and they bustle about and chatter cheerfully. Gokudera slips through them and walks towards the stairs leading to the actual Yamamoto household on the second story. He finds the older Yamamoto beside him and look to him for permission.

Tsuyoshi lets out a chuckle that almost sound like his son's. Almost, Gokudera reminds himself. "Go ahead. It'll be a pleasant surprise for Takeshi."

The man's words make the silver-haired boy swallow in concern.

Has Tsuyoshi figured out whatever happened between his son and Gokudera? The older Yamamoto smiles at Gokudera, and it is all it takes to convince the boy that if he had found out, nothing would change. The bomber tries to smile back, but it is more of a grimace.

Turning around, Gokudera heads up the stairs and his feet take him to his destination. He comes here too often, he thinks. He knows the Yamamoto home like the back of his hand. Maybe he should go back to disliking Yamamoto (Takeshi). It's easier that way. But Yamamoto senior is a man who is hard to disrespect, esecially since he had taught his son how to properly handle his sword. And that sword had saved Gokudera one too many times.

It's difficult not to trust the owner of the sword. But Gokudera didn't trust him at one time. He had hated Yamamoto (Takeshi; it's Takeshi) with all his heart. And then the hatred and distrust faded away (relunctantly on Gokudera's part) to—something else.

Gokudera swallows his anxiety and knocks on Yamamoto's door. It flings open in a few seconds.

"Dad! Did you-?" Yamamoto (Takeshi, Gokudera tells himself, Takeshi) looks two heads too high but smiles at the sight of his silver haired friend.

"Hayato."

And his heart skips a beat. Oh, the way his own name slips through those lips. It must be illegal for someone to say his name like that.

"I told you not to call me that," Gokudera replies harshly. Then, much softer, "Takeshi, you idiot." His throat catches. Yamamoto's first name sounds too foreign on his tongue. It was something he had to get used to. But how could he be not used to it by now? The name echoes in his head, over and over.

Gokudera pushes the thought out of his mind and clears his throat, as if to clear what away the feel of the swordsman's name from his mouth. It doesn't work. Takeshi is grinning stupidly and guides the bomber into his room. Gokudera does not need guiding, thank you very much. But he does pretend that he doesn't feel the calloused, yet warm, hands pressed to his waist, leading him into the room.

The door clicks shut behind them. "I forgot my compass here," Gokudera tries to be matter of fact.

A laugh, that was once annoying, rings out in the room. "You could have asked me to bring it to school tomorrow. I could give it back, then."

Gokudera frowns. How had he not thought of that? "A dimwit like you wouldn't know what a compass looks like. And even if you did, you wouldn't know how to handle it properly."

Takeshi (oh, so it sounds right, now) just says, "You left that fake compass of yours on my desk. It's right there."

He walks over to his desk, picks up the compass, walks back, and places it in Gokudera's hands.

The Italian scoffs, "The compass is very much real and it serves a purpose, too."

"A real compass has a better purpose than that one," the swordsman counters.

"This is a mathematical device and is used by architecs and construtors to fucking masons," Gokudera grumbles and shoves said device in his sweatshirt pocket. "You're thinking of a navigational compass and they both are of equal importance. And. They're. Both. Real."

"But they don't show you the way," Takeshi insists, almost whining.

Gokudera is frustrated that they are even arguing about compasses and glares at Takeshi. "Shut up. We're not talking about this."

Takeshi only smiles, like he has been for the past six months. Gokudera winces inwardly at the thought.

"You should stay for dinner," Takeshi presses his lips to Gokudera's cheek. The kiss tinges Gokudera's face with a shade of pink, his face having more colour than before. He turns around, his back to Takeshi, in an attempt to hide his flustered expression from him. Gokudera tries to ignore the kiss but his faux oblivion wavers when Takeshi snakes his arm (yet again) around Gokudera's waist and threads his fingers with the shorter boy.

"Okay," he mumbles, his face feels flushed and his heart is fluttering, again. He bites his lip, hating himself for his slightly girly demeanor. "I'll stay."

"Good," the bomber could practically hear the grin in Takeshi's voice.

He lets himself lean against Takeshi and lets the taller boy shower with as much affection as Gokudera allows. His defenses fall too quickly around the swordsman. He already trusts him; feels safe with him. But he doesn't want to believe that. So he stops Takeshi when his hands slide slowly down towards his hips and he's pulled closer towards him. Or, at least he does occasionally.

This is not one of these occasions. Gokudera is very surprised when he finds himself spun around, facing Takeshi and his back being pressed against a bedroom wall. But he's not at all surprised when he finds his lips captured by the taller boy. Gokudera merely complies. At times like these, he doesn't really fight back.

He can't; he is so very lost in the moment. Lost in the way Takeshi kisses him. His lips are chapped and he is unexpectedly possesive. His tounge eases his way into Gokudera's mouth when he flicks it across the bomber's bottom lip. The sensation is whelming and suddenly, all Gokudera can taste is Takeshi and a hint of sushi. It is a melding of lips and tongues. Takeshi's teeth playfully nip at his lip and the way the baseball idiot moves his mouth against Gokudera is passionate and a somewhat rough.

Right now, he doesn't care. Later, he will complain unbeknownst to others that his lips are bruised and are hurting, and that the swordsman is to be blamed. But right now, he would let Takeshi have his way with him. He feels as if he's melting. And the only things anchoring him are Takeshi's hands, his right firm against his waist and his left intertwined with his own fingers.

He'll hold his hand forever, even after Takeshi breaks the kiss to look down at Gokudera. The look he gives the shorter of the pair makes Gokudera's stomach twist and his heart beat a thousand times a minute. The look he gives him is a look of a lovestruck fool. Gokudera averts his eyes from Takeshi's face. His expression, his eyes; they're all too intense for him. More colour creeps to his features, until he is sure he's as red as the tomato sauce in pasta.

Great, Takeshi makes him disconcerted _and_ hungry, an uncomfortable combination for the Italian.

Takeshi takes the opportunity to pull back Gokudera's bangs away from his face and tenderly presses his lips against Gokudera's forehead. The bomber knows he's a lost cause and curses himself for falling into Takeshi's trap of affection. For the moment being, he closes his eyes and relishes in it.

Takeshi brings up his left hand with Gokudera's right. He then brush his lips across Gokudera's knuckles. "I'll bring us something to eat. Just stay here," he says before letting go of Gokudera's hand.

The warmth from Takeshi's hand can still be felt, even as the swordsman walks away and closes the door behind him. Gokudera contemplates the situation that he is in with Takeshi, as he waits. It was six months ago when he begin to realize the swordsman's smiles were different when it was directed at him as opposed to his fellow classmates. It was six months ago that their unstable friendship turned into something more. The past six months with Takeshi were all too confusing and he couldn't find a way out of it.

Gokudera makes his way to Takeshi's bed and gingerly sits on it. He brings his knees to his chest and slips his hand into his sweatshirt pocket. His now warm hand brushes against something cool. He pulls it out of the pocket, revealing the compass that was placed there before—all this happened.

He sighs and shifts awkwardly causing wrinkles to appear on Takeshi's bed. "A mathematical compass doesn't help you find the way," Gokudera scoffs beneath his breath. Takeshi was wrong. The darn thing brought him to Takeshi, didn't it? All _this_ happened because of it.

An epiphany finds its way into Gokudera's brain and he thinks his own stupidity must have been clouding his mind and preventing him to think properly. Yes, the past six months with Takeshi had been frustrating as hell. There were all these chaste kisses peppered here and there, those firework inducing make-out sessions scattered wherever they could be, and the mafia—oh _god_, the mafia—made it all so very confusing. That is never going to change, Gokudera knows. He will not ever find his way out of this chaos. Maybe he doesn't need to. Not when he has Takeshi by his side.

He leans over and places the compass on Takeshi's desk. The door opens and Yamamoto enters with two bowls of rice and tempura in his hands.

"You were wrong," Gokudera states plainly, avoiding Yamamoto's curious gaze. "About mathematical compasses not showing the way and crap."

He takes a deep breath, as if readying himself before meeting Takeshi's eyes. Gokudera receives a look of understanding from Takeshi. How could the swordsman not understand him? They are a perfect duo when they're paired up together in fights. It's almost as if Takeshi can read his mind.

"Oh really?" the taller boy questions. "You might be right. Anyway, you came here to get back what you left."

A flush now dons Gokudera's cheekbones and he feels awkward again. Oh, Takeshi definitely knows what he's trying to say, and it's rather embarrassing.

"You know, you left something else here too."

The bomber almost panics, "What's that?"

Takeshi's stupid face splits into a grin. He just walks toward Gokudera, places his hand on his chest, and kisses him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:  
>[Disclaimer] Katekyo Hitman Reborn belongs to Amano Akira.<strong>

**I was just trying to convey how objects that are not compasses can be like one, in the sense that they lead you something/help you find your way. Did that with 8059. Not sure if I did that properly. ****You've also probably noticed my inconsistent writing style. ****Either way, it seems that more people need to write this pairing; it's almost as if its fading away, in spite of all the hints Amano Akira is dropping. **

**Anyways, thanks for reading and please review! And have a Happy New Year! **


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